Goin' Down to Georgia (Harlequin American Romance Series #1202)

"No!" Liza Henderson's life flashed before her eyes as she prepared to meet her maker."Damn! Damn! Damn!" Screeching expletives probably wasn't a good way to make it through the pearly gates, but hey, she was about to get flattened by a tire careening off a chicken hauler.Liza gripped the wheel of her ancient F-250. Lurching off the road, she bounced across a gravel verge and came to rest in a tangle of kudzu vines.She felt as if time hiccuped when the chicken hauler--sans one tire--sideswiped a truck pulling a double-wide trailer, sending both vehicles sliding, blocking the westbound lanes. That was bad enough, but the comedy of errors wasn't quite over. When a molasses truck joined the melee, it turned into a sticky wicket.Not only had State Highway 441 north of Magnolia Bluffs, Georgia, been transformed into a gooey, feathery chicken hell, the three truck drivers had abandoned their mangled rigs and were about to come to blows.The good news was that no one appeared to be hurt. The bad news was that Liza was trapped in a sea of greenery.She was prying her fingers from the steering wheel when a state trooper tapped on the passenger-side window."Ma'am, are you okay?"If Liza discounted the fact that her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest, she supposed she was just dandy. She scooted over to roll down the window, mentally taking inventory of her body parts."I think so. Everything seems to be in working order.""That's good. I'll mosey over there and see if I can round up some guys to help you get back on the road." The trooper indicated the long line of cars and pickups that had stacked up on the highway."Ya know, if you sit too long in that kudzu, it'll cover you right up," he said with a grin. "If that happens, they'll never find you."Imported from Japan in the nineteenth century and used during the Depression for erosion control, kudzu was capable of growing almost a foot a day. It also had the annoying habit of covering everything in its way--up to and including derelict cars, sheds, abandoned washing machines and, on occasion, a slow-moving granny."Amen to that," Liza agreed. Everyone knew about the scourge of the South.The trooper stepped back and did a double take when he glanced in the bed of her pickup. "Ma'am, not to be nosy, but is that a purple bathtub you have back there?""Unfortunately it is." Not to mention a sink and a toilet."I've never seen anything quite like it before. Didn't realize they made 'em that color."Neither had Liza. Not until her daughter Cassie had conned her into returning the fixtures to the Designer's Mart in Atlanta.The trooper shook his head in a "what next" gesture. "Let me go get some fellas to help ya."True to his word, the patrolman returned with a crew of able-bodied men--ready, willing and able to extricate Liza's Ford from the all-consuming vegetation. It took some grunting, cussing and a few snickers before the gang of good old boys managed to get her back on the road.Liza breathed a sigh of relief. At least she hadn't been whooshed off to the white light, but still, this was turning out to be a day straight out of Dante's Inferno. It had started with a predawn call from Kara, her youngest. Since Kara had left for her freshman year at Emory University, her communication skills had deteriorated, so a phone call before dawn was not a good sign.Liza loved her daughter like crazy, but Kara was a drama queen. Normally that wasn't a problem. This time, however, her college tuition and rent were due, and she'd maxed out her credit card at a Rich's department-store sale.Step one--discuss fiscal responsibility. Step two--assure her hysterical daughter that money was forthcoming. Step three-- ask what Rich's had in size-six shoes. And step four--hang up and reach for the bottle of aspirin and a cup of coffee. That had helped until her other daughter, CaDeFee, Ann is the author of 'Goin' Down to Georgia (Harlequin American Romance Series #1202)', published 2008 under ISBN 9780373752065 and ISBN 0373752067.